International bestselling author of the Monster Series. Lover of all things dark and taboo. Writer of the Scars and Sorrow Saga and half of the #darkduo. Lives by the mantra, carpe diem!

Friday, January 10, 2014

Little Girl Gone

Here is a short story that I wrote for Lyla. It is heartbreaking, as most of her journey has been. I welcome your comments below. I hope this story touches your heart. Remember, every woman deserves her fairy tale ending, even the ones that believe they are damaged...

Little
Girl Gone

The truth is God has a plan for everyone, even before they
are thought of. All souls have their journey written for them, even the ones
that never make it out into the chaotic world to breathe their first breath;
they have a script written for them, too. As much as people try to figure out
their paths and dodge the wicked curves that are thrown their way, it’s
inevitable. You will stumble and fall and occasionally get hit between the eyes
hard with unfortunate and sometimes gruesome events. Ironically, it is all part
of the plan.

***

The four year old princess ran beneath the hills near the
pond on her grandparent’s farm. Her little lungs filled themselves to their
depths with the scent of honeysuckle tickling her nose. She had pure happiness
in her heart. Her life had been normal so far, (well, normal to her, not to
others), experiencing the milestones that most little ones do. She was
intelligent and proud, spelling out her name to anyone that would listen. She
loved fairy tales and Cinderella was her favorite. Her dream was to become a
princess when she grew up. The little girl had a path of her own just like
everyone else, and life would prove to be cruel to her, testing her will for
years to come.

Her long black locks tumbled about as
she carried her tiny legs as fast as she could, being chased by her older
brother. The sun was shining an array of rainbow colors and it was soon to set.
The little girl had her mason jar waiting for her on her Nonnie and Pops’
wrap-around porch to catch fireflies that muggy summer’s night.

Her giggles were like sweet
symphonies, the angels above strumming their harps and the chords coming from
the little girl’s lungs. She was the epitome of beauty, but the world would
show its ugly side to her soon. With the times to come, the little princess
would not see her true loveliness; but that was part of her script, the script
written for all.

“L-Y-L-A, Lyla,” the cherub-faced
girl said to her Pops in a southern drawl.

“Smart girl,” her Pops said, pride
swelling in his chest.

“Pops, I don’t wanna go home. Can I
stay with you and Nonnie, pwease?” the sweet little girl asked as she saw her
daddy’s truck speeding up the long driveway leaving a thick trail of dust
behind.

“Oh, Lyla, I’m sorry. Your daddy is
here to get you. But you and Bub and Sis will come back in a few weeks before
school starts, okay?”

“What about the bug with flashlights
on their butts?”

“Haha! Lyla, baby. Those are called
fireflies,” he said as a laugh escaped his lungs.

“I wanna catch ‘em and take ‘em home
with me, Pops. Pweeaseee.”

“Next time, baby. I promise,” her
Pops said to her before pulling her into him for a tight hug.

Tears pricked behind her chocolate
brown eyes. Those tears would fight their way and win, not just at that moment
in time, but for many years in the future. That little girl would face her
first obstacle of evil that very night.

***

The young girl sat between her daddy and brother in the big
pick-up truck. She didn’t care for that vehicle. It always made her feel
uncomfortable, but she never understood why. After all, how much does a four
year old little girl really understand about life, anyway? She felt the torn
vinyl seats scratch her tiny bruised legs. She smelled the exhaust from the
aged 4x4 and the feeling of terror filled her heart; it raced and she knew at
four years old that something bad was about to happen. That feeling of imminent
doom would be a premonition that would always be, and she would relate that
same emotion to many other times in her life.

***

“Get out, boy,” huffed her father.

“But why? This is a gas station,
Daddy. I don’t wanna be left alone.”

“I said get the fuck out.”

The father’s voice was a deep
baritone, and loud enough to scare the birds away in flight from counties away.
His yell made shivers run down his daughter’s spine and letdown flip in his
son’s belly. He truly didn’t care. His plan was already etched out as well,
though an evil one.

The young boy knew better than to
test his father. He had tried before, but learned his lesson sporting the marks
on his petite six year old frame. That was the evidence of his father’s
madness.

The young boy knew not to question
his daddy again. He wouldn’t let him see how upset he was. This wasn’t the
first time that such a thing had happened. He knew he was the lucky one between
him and his sisters. He felt like a failure, such a sad sentiment at a young
age. He thought about rebelling his father’s commands and demanding his baby
sister accompany him into the country gas station, but he was sure he couldn’t
save her, just like the other times with his older sister. All he could do is
pray for her to be okay, and pray to God for his daddy to stop.

He found a quarter on the dirty floor
of the gas station and headed to the pay phone to call his Pops. It was a good
thing he was learning to memorize phone numbers in school, and even a better
thing he paid attention to learning his Pops’.

***

“I don’t understand, Daddy. I want Momma and Ros. Where’s
Garrett? I wanna go to them at Uncle Tony’s house. Pwease,” the little girl
pleaded in a near whisper.

Her begs were insignificant to him.
She felt the sting on her already rosy cheek as her head flung to the side from
the blow to her face. Her black curls followed suit, swaying across her face.
It was a good thing for her because they encased the tears that freely flowed
down.

Good moments gone too soon. That
would be the story of her life, but she had a noble soul. She would live a life
of contentment one day, breathing the true dream of a fairy tale. It’s the tics
along the way that wouldn’t be easy. At that inkling in time, her life was
turned upside down and she would carry the pain and memories for the rest of
her life. The one man that was supposed to protect her shattered her image of
Prince Charming. She was ruined for all others, until the day that she was to
be rescued from the burning castle; a day she thought would never come. At four
years old she started to hate herself, and the dimness would lurk and bite her
along the way.

2 comments:

I agree that this short story is heartbreaking, but with that said, it just proves what a strong woman Lyla turns out to be. She has overcome so much sadness and abuse to become this beautiful, strong, albeit scarred person who deserves a happy ending! Definitely need my Kleenex for this one!

Kel, your comments always bring a smile to my face. I appreciate it. Your support and encouragement have been crucial, without it and the other special gals that I share my unpublished work with, I would have given up long ago. For that along with your amazing friendship, I am eternally grateful.